


Staying Neutral

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: Deadwood
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 02:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2796698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a rule, Al doesn't get involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staying Neutral

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EvilFuzzyDoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilFuzzyDoom/gifts).



> I was thrilled to see you were asking for Al. I love him and he's a joy to write. I hope you like this. Happy holidays!
> 
> Thanks so much to fragrantwoods for the beta!

The camp was quiet the morning after Hearst's departure. It was fucking odd to wake to quiet, or what passed for quiet in Deadwood. Al lay in bed for a long while listening to the passing voices in the thoroughfare, the sounds of animals, the clank of tools. No one being shot at.

He rolled out of bed. It was almost anticlimactic, like a firework fizzling out, or a whore stopping production right at the end. It was good this hadn't blown up, though. Now he just had to figure out what he was going to do with his time without the trouble of Hearst to get in his way and the responsibilities that came with that.

He descended the stairs, surveying the main room as he went. Johnny was behind the bar. Silas was at one of the tables, sipping coffee. 

"Where's Dan?" 

Johnny didn't look up from his newspaper. "Arrested." He didn't offer any more explanation. He was still sore about Jen, Al surmised. He decided to ignore it.

"How did he manage that?" 

Johnny turned the page. "Pissed outside. Harry saw him and decided he was exposing himself where there might be ladies present." 

Al looked around. "When he said ladies, did he mean the whores?" 

"I expect so." 

"Christ." Al closed his eyes. This would be what he'd have to deal with now, with his luck. Manning was stupid enough to be more dangerous than Hearst. He never thought he'd long for fucking Bullock. He poured himself a drink and knocked it back. He looked at Silas. "Has anyone written to Jen's sister? Did Bullock?" 

Silas raised an eyebrow. "Thought you said you weren't going to notify fucking family." 

"I'm not. You are." He waited while Silas fetched a pencil and paper. "She's at the Yellowbird up in Gunnison. Name's Rosie. You can tell her…" He paused and looked down at Silas's waiting pencil. "Well, I'm not going to dictate the fucking thing. Just tell her Jen came to an unfortunate and unavoidable accident. She was in the wrong place at the wrong fucking time. But she didn't suffer much and was among friends when she breathed her last." Silas took all this down, word for word. Al supposed creativity was a lost art. "And say she was given a proper Christian burial and was attended to by those that loved her. As a token of respect, I paid for the coffin myself." 

Silas finished writing. "And the signature?"

"Put your own name on it." Al set his cup down. "You're the one doing the notifying." He turned and headed outside. The sun was just beginning its inexorable climb to its noontime apex, though the summer day was already threatening heat. He didn't fancy having to spring Dan from wherever the law might've locked him up. 

He set off for the freight office. It was right across from the Number 10 and was the only place appropriate to holding those that needed locking up, despite the change in administration. He glanced into that saloon as he passed. Manning met his eyes and then looked away. Of course he wouldn't come out. Well, it was good to see _someone_ was still afraid of him. 

"Al!" Dan exclaimed as soon as he'd entered the freight office. "You've come to let me out."

"Maybe." He looked around the office. "Maybe I just need to send a letter." 

Utter looked up at him skeptically. "You have anything to ship, Mr. Swearengen?"

"Not at the present moment, no. But later on, some correspondence will be coming from my place." He turned to go. "And let him out, will you?"

Utter looked at Dan. "Sheriff arrested him."

"Did Bullock ever arrest anybody for answering the call of nature?" 

Utter rubbed his chin. "Don't think so."

"I can let it slide this time," Al said as Utter went to spring Dan. "Manning's new and eager. He's still feeling the job out. We can't blame him for one little error in judgment." 

Utter narrowed his eyes and said nothing until Dan was on his merry way. 

"You coming to the meeting tonight?" he asked.

"What meeting?" 

"Bullock's calling a meeting to talk about what to do now that Hearst's gone." Utter went back behind the counter and began busying himself there. "Going to be held at the hotel, as Mr. Farnum has offered the use of his space."

"Is that so?" Al paused thoughtfully. 

"So, are you coming?" 

"No, Mr. Utter, I'm not. I'm just here to earn a living. Never had an interest in the political running of the town and never will." 

Utter made a skeptical noise and Al left. He knew it had been too much to hope for to think Utter would make a passing conversationalist. 

Down the street, he found EB outside, supervising the repair of the hole on the hotel's face. 

"So, EB, I see you've become a pillar of the fucking community." 

EB jumped. "Oh, Al, I didn't see you, the way you slith-I mean, sidled up."

Al put his hands in his pockets. "Calling meetings, are we now?" 

"It was Mr. Bullock's idea, who continues to act as sheriff, albeit illegally. Can a town have two sheriffs, Al, both working towards opposite means? How long before total chaos and anarchy set in to torment our daily lives?"

"I would say chaos and anarchy were just narrowly avoided." Al nodded toward the defacement of EB's pride and joy. Richardson was just visible through the hole, contemplating a hammer. "Wouldn’t you say?"

"Those days are past us now, Al. Water under the bridge. Let's not speak of them."

"People who say that tend to have things to hide."

EB looked panic-stricken. If the only joy in life Al had to look forward to was scaring EB, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad life. "You can't judge a man under duress, Al. I may have folded under Hearst's constant torment, but that is only because I lack your strength and bravery. I have only to reference your mutilation at the hands of that villain to demonstrate the differences in our constitutions. I am weak and of phlegmatic temperament while—" 

Al cut him off. "That's enough, EB. I just want to see what's going on tonight. Who's coming?" 

"So far committed are Mr. Bullock, Mr. Star, Mr. Utter—I expect Mr. Merrick will be there to transcribe minutes. And of course, yourself, I presume."

"Me? No. This is not for me. I'm staying out of politics." He looked away again casually. Just two men on the boardwalk making casual conversation. "Has Bullock mentioned what topics will be on the table?" 

"He hasn't seen fit to do any such thing in my presence." 

"Well, they'll have to do something to provide for Ellsworth's widow. The income won't be a problem, but someone will have to look after her."

"I expect Mr. Bullock will only be too happy to undertake such a task." 

"And Tolliver," Al cut in. "I can sympathize with the desire to dispose of the cruder bottom-dwellers in one's employ, but has anyone alerted either of our so-called sheriffs to open murder occurring in broad daylight?"

"I can only say that I don't know." 

As EB was only tolerable in brief doses, Al returned to the Gem. He determined that Dan was back at work, Johnny was still steamed up, and Silas had posted the letter. At least some things moved smoothly without his interventions. 

Later that evening, he found himself drifting back across to the hotel. It wasn't because he cared to see what was transpiring there, he told himself. It was only that he was too curious for his own fucking good. Curiosity had never come to any good end, and yet he still couldn't help entertaining the whim.

"Ah! Al!" a voice from the stairs exclaimed.

He turned around, peeved to have an audience to his bowing to poorer habits. "Jack."

"Come to join the worthies of the town?" Jack was beaming. "I find myself pleased and surprised to have been extended an invitation. Surely they did not overlook you."

"They didn't overlook me." They fell into step together heading for the hotel's dining room. "I'm not going. I have no interest in getting involved in fucking politics. I got involved with Hearst and look where that got me." He held up his damaged hand. "I've spent half my life fleeing the encroachment of civilization. I am not about to contribute to it." 

"Ah, but your feet say otherwise. I am going and you appear to be going with me."

Al stopped. Jack stopped, too.

"I don't care what these people do to themselves," Al went on. "I'm just trying to run an independent business." 

The expression on Jack's face was infuriating. "All right, young man. If I can assume you will not be continuing on inside, then I will bid you good night." He tipped his hat and stepped into the room. Al caught the door on its swing. 

He didn't care, sure, but when you had such a collection of helpless hoople-heads to deal with, you couldn't just leave them to their own devices. 

But he'd be damned if he was going to say a fucking thing otherwise.


End file.
